


In Another Life

by GuardianofFun



Series: Killing me not so softly [5]
Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Timelines, Blood and Injury, Episode: s03e21 E2, F/M, Graphic Description, Major Character Injury, implied Trip/Malcolm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-12
Updated: 2017-07-12
Packaged: 2018-12-01 06:04:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11480199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun
Summary: Aboard another Enterprise, one that's around in 2049, things turned out very differently for Malcolm Reed.





	In Another Life

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Long Way to Happy](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14782071) by [GuardianofFun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GuardianofFun/pseuds/GuardianofFun). 



> So I'm mid-way through writing a much longer fic that kind of covers the entire show, and when it came to this episode there's a throwaway line about Malcolm's future in E2, and I decided to write this up, but it doesn't really fit in with the rest of the fic - so this can be a standalone fic. 
> 
> I kind of follow the E2 canon, hence the Trip/T'Pol (which is not really my cup of tea) but this is taken from a Trip/Malcolm though I don't know that it's really there that much, you can ignore it if you want! 
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy, and jsut know there's more stuff in the works from me! 
> 
> WARNING for blood and character death

The bandits had made it off the ship with four of their phase pistols. Shit. Malcolm stared up at the empty spot in the cupboard and felt shame pool in his stomach. He been ambushed while alone in the armoury, as he prepared to answer the emergency call from sickbay. Just three pirates, that had been all. Snuck onboard via transporters, one right into sickbay. It had been a diversion he realised, so they could get at the armoury while it was at it’s most vulnerable. They had got a reputation of sorts as somewhat infamous for their fairly advanced weaponry and defences. 

One of the aliens that had caught him had been going for the EM barrier, but he had wrestled him to the ground and was about to shoot him when the other one threw herself into him. He went sprawling, and he saw the flash of a blade before he could throw himself out of the way. It sliced through his leg, white hot pain searing through him as it sunk deep into his thigh.  

The aliens glanced at each other, and one made a move towards the locked cabinet he kept his EM technology locked in. With a somewhat shaky hand, Malcolm shot at her, grazing her arm. The smell of burning flesh sent them into a panic and they hurried from the room, but not before filling their hands with the guns that sat in the opened weapons cabinet. They were pathetic little thieves, nothing more, Malcolm thought bitterly. His leg throbbed and as he sat up to glance at it, his vision swam. There was an awful lot of blood already. 

He pulled himself upright, dragging himself to the steps beside his station, bleeding out while the communicator on the wall rang, too far out of reach. His breaths came long and slow, as he watched the leg of his uniform turn a much darker shade of navy. He might have been okay, he thought, if the damned woman had caught him anywhere else. He could have limped to sickbay and had Phlox wrap it up, but no. He had enough medical knowledge garnered from years spent in sickbay to know that the drowsiness overwhelming him wasn’t good. He tipped his head and tried to gauge where the knife had been, if it had gone deep enough. Pressing a hand to the wound was worryingly painless. He felt his heart thud in his chest. Definitely the femoral artery.

He groped at his arm with the hand that wasn’t covered in blood, pulling his communicator from his pocket. He fumbled with the latch for a moment, and then the blasted thing chirped anyways. He slid a thumb under the catch and popped it open. 

Trip, breathless, called out to him. 

“Malcolm? What’s happening, we needed you in sickbay!” He sounded angry, but Malcolm didn’t have the energy to be put out by that. 

“Armoury,” he managed to say, though his tongue felt so very heavy. He made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a moan as his head fell back against the step with a thud. 

“Malcolm? You alright?” Trip asked. He seemed to have an uncanny ability to know when Malcolm was hiding something. Malcolm nodded, then realised his mistake. He scoffed then tried to reply. It was becoming harder and harder to wrap his lips around the words he meant to say.

“Not really.” Tthat took far too much breath than was necessary. “Got hit,” he muttered, not sure how to describe the pool of blood he sat in that had quickly become a puddle. “Not good, too much… blood,” he settled on. 

There was some rapid fire discussion on the other side, and then Trip’s voice loud and clear once again.

“Okay Malcolm, we’re coming to you alright?” He said, worry straining his voice now. Malcolm nodded, too tired for words. 

“Malcolm? Malcolm, buddy, I need you to answer me.” It sounded like he was moving; there footsteps in the background. Malcolm grimaced in response. Thinking was so hard now.

“Yeah?” he managed. Trip let out a strangled noise. 

“Okay, good, thanks - you gotta stay awake okay?” Some part of his brain understood that logic, the same part that was screaming at him that he was about to die, but they sounded very far away. It felt almost as if his brain was full of chef’s lumpy mashed potato. Had he been supposed to respond to something?

“Trip?” he asked, feeling something cold settle in his chest. Fear, he thought distantly, that he was about to die. Alone, in his armoury. Of course. Fitting really.

“I’m here Malcolm, I promise we’re on our way-” Malcolm smiled at that. He liked Trip, a lot. Maybe if Trip were here he wouldn’t be so cold. Trip always had warm hands. 

“Hey, you wanna hear somethin’?” Trip asked, his voice taking on an annoyingly high pitch. “Malcolm!” The lieutenant groaned in response.

“It’s a secret for now though, okay? But you’re my best friend, so I want you to know.

He was cut off by a clang as Malcolm’s fingers suddenly became incredibly heavy. The communicator fell from his grasp as his head fell back with a thud. He stared up at the ceiling, limbs to heavy to move. His chest rose ever so slowly.

“We did it Mal - T’Pol, she’s pregnant!” There should have been joy in his voice but the commander sounded rather panicked.

“C’ngrats,” he replied, cringing at how thin and breathless his voice had become. It made him sound a lot less sincere. 

“Thanks,” Trip said, but he was starting to sound very far away now. The ceiling suddenly seemed a lot darker too, actually everything did. He let out a shuddering gasp as everything spun around him, the walls and railings around him twisting into unnatural shapes and patterns. So this was what dying looked like. It felt very surreal. For a moment, Malcolm felt everything in perfect clarity. 

The sharp throbbing in his leg, the wetness beneath him, the coldness of the steps. The sharp sting in his lungs that accompanied every breath. Trip’s voice on the communicator, breathless and giddy for all the wrong reasons. 

“I want you to be godfather - Malcolm?” 

Then the moment ended, and with another low groan, Malcolm felt no more. 

Seconds later, the doors to the armoury flew open, but they were too late. His head tilted upwards, one hand hanging off a step to lie in a puddle of blood, Malcolm was gone. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry Malcolm, rip...
> 
> lemme know what you thought? I will love u forever <3


End file.
